The Boy with the Lightning Scar
by AngelG93
Summary: Life really hated him. He hadn't meant to activate that circle, but the Truth had still punished him for it and dumped him in a world full of magic. Nor had he meant to be in the room when Voldemort's Killing Curse had rebounded off of the infant Harry Potter, but he'd still gotten a scar to show for it, a scar shaped like a bolt of lightning. T for language, violence, etc.
1. Prologue

_**The Boy with the Lightning Scar**_

_**by AngelG93**_

* * *

A/N: Whew! I can't believe I talked myself into writing another _HP_/_FMA_ crossover… and yet, here I am. This started out as a simple question: "What if Snape raised Ed?" And, in less than two days, it evolved into something much, much darker. ***SPOILER ALERT*** This delves into some Deathly Hallows content pretty quickly, so proceed with caution unless you know the whole story already.

**Disclaimer**: I am not just giving Ed some of Harry's spotlight for kicks. Hopefully, it will start to make sense to you a chapter or two after the story hits off… which… it's about to… right… NOW!

* * *

**Prologue**

Severus Snape approached the wreckage of the house, his heart fluttering inside his chest like a trapped bird. Did he dare go inside? What if the Dark Lord's sudden demise had just been a rumor? If he was caught here… No, Lily was in that house, somewhere. He had to find her. He had to see for himself if she really was… Mastering his fear, he opened the gate and crossed the threshold, no doubt following the same route his master had taken less than an hour before.

James Potter, his rival, lay broken at the foot of the stairs, his glasses askew over unseeing eyes. Severus didn't even spare him a second glance as he ascended; all he cared about was Lily. With every step, the coward within him screamed that he should turn and run, but he had to know for sure. At last, he reached the top landing. Most of the second story had been blown apart, left exposed to the open sky and the crisp, October air. While the Muggles of Godric's Hollow had been scampering around playing dress-up on this Halloween night, his very reason for living had been torn away from him. Using several Hovering Charms, Severus moved aside splintered beams and flaking sections of drywall. How long would he have to dig until…?

His blood froze. There, crumpled on the debris-littered carpet, as peaceful as if she had merely fallen asleep, was Lily. His Lily. Severus sank to his knees, unable to contain his grief any longer. As lonely, glimmering tears coursed down his sallow cheeks, he lifted her into his arms and cradled her against himself, as if by holding her close he could somehow reach the soul that was gone forever. Her pale, bloodless face only made her dark red hair shine all the more, and her green eyes were concealed behind lids closed in an eternal slumber. He wished to see them one more time, and yet he feared to as well. If her eyes had been open, those soulless orbs would have pierced his heart, silently demanding why he hadn't been able to save her. A choked sob full of unendurable pain slipped free of him as his forehead drooped to rest against her cold face.

And that was when he heard it: the feeble wail of a small child. Could it be Lily's son, trapped somewhere in the wreckage? Then, another sound met his ears. A second voice was hushing the first's cries. Snape straightened, raising his wand and pointing it at a dresser that had fallen slantways, obscuring one corner of the room from view. With a flick, it scraped along the carpet to one side and fell to the floor with a muffled thud, revealing what – or rather who – had been hiding from him.

Pressed into the corner as far back as was humanly possible was a boy, no more than five or six years old. Even though it was too dark to see much of him, both his hair and his eyes gleamed in the moonlight like molten gold. Clutched in his skinny arms was the source of the cries: the infant Harry Potter.

"Who are you?" Severus demanded, perhaps a little too harshly. The boy scuffed against the carpet with his boots as if he could somehow push even further into the corner.

"Stay away!" he shouted in a timorous, high voice. "No one else is gonna try to hurt this poor kid! Just look at what happened to _him_." The boy pointed a short finger at something Severus had not yet noticed. Spread out on the floor almost like a rug was a black robe, a garment Severus had last seen around his master's shoulders. His eyes widened; all that remained of the Dark Lord was dust and a cloak.

"I saw the whole thing," continued the boy as he rocked the Potter child in his arms. "That creepy bastard killed everybody. I tried to stop him from killing this kid, too, but… there was all this green light, and everything blew up."

As Severus laid Lily back on the carpet and brushed her hair away from her face, the boy asked, "Why did that psycho do all this? What did this kid and his family ever do to him?" Severus didn't answer; instead, he approached the two children cautiously so as not to startle them. "I said stay away!" yelled the boy, and that's when he did something quite strange. He clapped. Grabbing the edge of the half-intact crib that had held the infant, he pulled from it a knife, just… formed it with his will and his bare hands. He leveled the weapon at Severus, ignorant of how little good such a small blade would do against a skilled wizard.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Severus said, putting away his wand and showing his empty hands to the boy as proof. "Were either of you injured in the explosion?"

"I don't think the kid was," the boy shrugged, giving the infant a quick look-over, "but… I guess I must have hit my head or something. It stings, right in the middle."

"Let me see." Thankfully, the moon chose that moment to emerge from behind the scattered clouds and illuminate the boy's face. It was smudged with dust, but otherwise looked no worse for wear. Then, Severus noticed something on the boy's forehead. Framed on either side by the flaxen bangs, a little above a point directly between the golden eyes, was a scar shaped like a bolt of lightning. Where had such a strange mark come from? It was clearly of magical origin. For that matter, where had the boy himself come from in the first place? Biting back the urge to bombard the child with questions, Severus decided to start at the beginning.

"You never did tell me… who you are," he said at last.

The boy blinked in surprise; then he smiled. "My name's Edward. Edward Elric."

* * *

A/N: Yeah. That's all you're getting until I finish _Nowhere is Safe _(my first FMA/HP crossover)… unless, of course, I just can't help myself.

SevLily… the feels of unrequited, yet unconditional love… T.T I kind of went off of that scene in the movie where he goes to the house and finds her dead. It's so sad. TT-TT

Why did I have Voldemort's body dissolve into dust like in the movie? Dunno. Maybe he's a vampire… he _does_ drink unicorn blood… XD Actually, I just didn't know what else to do with the body, so I had it dissolve. You can just, um, go with the theory that his soul was so torn asunder that his body just fell apart without the remnants of his soul to hold it together. Yeah, take that and run with it. Run with it like you would with a sharp, dangerous object.

So… guess where the bit of Voldy's soul ended up? Oh, yes. I went there.


	2. Murder in the Night

_**The Boy with the Lightning Scar**_

_**by AngelG93**_

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A/N: Wow, I am floored by the response to that short teaser. It's motivated me to churn out some more! In other words… yeah, I couldn't help myself. XD Let's see if I can manage two _FMA_/_HP_ crossovers at the same time! MUA-HA-HA!

REVIEW RESPONSE TIME:

An anonymous guest asked something about Ed "looking age six with automail." I can instantly clarify that he doesn't have automail. But, fear not, all your other questions will be answered! Hopefully…

**marichan96**: Ed won't become as close of friends with Harry as he does in _NiS_, partly because he's nearly four-and-a-half years older than Harry in this fic. Explanations on Ed's background and age are right below. Enjoy!

* * *

**Murder in the Night**

Three months.

It had almost been three months since his wonderful, beautiful mother had died. The promise he had made to his little brother over her grave was still fresh in his mind's ear…

"How can we live without her?" Alphonse had asked.

"We're not, Al. We're going to bring her back."

For the past three months, that was all that had kept him going. He and Al had poured over what felt like every single alchemical tome in their entire house, and still they couldn't find much information on Human Transmutation, the forbidden art they would have to employ in order to resurrect their mother.

"Aagh! It's got to be here _somewhere_!" Ed moaned in frustration, picking up yet another of the volumes that Hohenheim had left behind.

"…Ed?"

"Yeah, Al?"

"I… I've been thinking… maybe we shouldn't after all."

The book slipped from his hands as he stared at his younger brother. "What? Why would you say that?"

"Because, Human Transmutation is surely forbidden for a reason. It could be really dangerous. What if we just end up getting ourselves killed?"

"Wouldn't that risk be worth getting Mom back?"

"I… I couldn't help but imagine how sad she'd be if we hurt ourselves bringing her back."

"Al…" Ed's tone was somewhere between teasing and condescending. "Are you scared or something?"

The younger Elric hung his head. "…Maybe… I just… I don't want to risk losing _you_, too, Ed. Then, I'd be all alone."

Ed's temper had flared now; Al was being such a crybaby. "Fine, then! If you don't want to risk it, then leave. I can do just fine by myself!"

Now Al really was tearing up. "But, Brother-"

"Go on! Shoo!"

Solemnly, Al stood and traipsed downstairs, leaving Ed in their father's study. Before the elder Elric slammed the door shut, he called down, "And don't come back until you've worked up the guts!"

Only many hours later, after reading through several more books, did Ed begin to think he might have been a _little_ harsh to his younger brother. Mom had never liked it when Ed had bullied Al, and he could almost feel her disappointment at how he'd just treated the only family he had left.

_Okay_, he said to himself as he flopped onto his back, _when Al comes up, I'll apologize to him_. He absent-mindedly turned his head to the side… and that was when he saw it: a small, hand-bound manuscript hidden under the desk. "What the…?" He snatched the mysterious book and roved through the pages. Why had Hohenheim kept this out of sight? Could the clue he and Al were missing be inside? As Ed read, he furrowed his small brow. The words were in a different language. He thumbed through from front to back, and still, not a single page was in plain Amestrian. _Damn that man! He must have encrypted the contents, which means it's probably really important_. Exasperated, Ed threw the book against the nearest wall. When it landed, it fell open to a page Ed had passed by in his skim. It contained no words at all, but drawn onto the page was a complicated transmutation circle. There was something else, too, so Ed scooted over to the book to get a better view. Taped to the page was a shard of some kind of red gem. A ruby? A bloodstone? Ed ran a finger over it, feeling the grain of the cut. What was so special about this tiny slab of rock? He detached the shard and examined it from every possible angle. Nothing. This was absolutely infuriating; he had gotten his hopes up upon finding the hidden book only for them to plummet again.

"Why?" he asked the empty air as he clutched the gem in his left hand. "Why am I hitting another dead end?" He slumped forward so that his forehead rested against the picture of the circle. "It's like the whole universe is out to stop me or something! Why? All I want is my mom back! What's wrong with that? I just want her back!" He raised his fist with the shard in hand, and, as he shouted, "Give her back to me!" he slammed it against the page, against the circle itself. In that moment, his longing for his mother, for her smile, her warm embrace, consumed every thought in his head.

And that was his big mistake.

The circle on the page lit up bright blue, and Ed's left hand grew hot, so much so that he dropped the shard to keep from burning himself. As soon as he released it, however, the alchemical array attracted the gem to itself like a magnet.

"What the…? What's going on?"

The glow from the circle slowly shifted from blue to a deep purple tinged with red, and a white line appeared down the middle of the array, opening to reveal a single eye. It fixed its gaze on him, and that was when Ed realized he was in trouble. He bolted for the door, but just before he could grab the knob, something looped around his legs and pulled him to the floor. When he looked, he saw black hands entwining around him, hauling him back toward the circle.

"No! Stop it! Whatever you're doing, stop it right now!" These pleas produced no result as the darkness dragged him along the floor. Ed turned back toward the door; maybe Al would have heard him yell. "Al! Alphonse!" A tingling began in his toes, travelling up his legs with alarming speed, leaving in its wake a strange numbness, almost like-

When Ed finally made himself look, he couldn't stop a terrified scream from escaping his throat.

His legs had vanished. No, the black hands had broken them down into paper-thin flakes, sucking the remains toward the middle of the transmutation circle, into that haunting, unearthly eye. Panicking, Ed called his brother's name again, "Al! Al, please! Aaaaaal!" As he reached out in desperation, the darkness deconstructed him completely, and everything went white.

* * *

He was dead. He had to be. Even if he wasn't, he didn't dare open his eyes to find out where the black hands had taken him.

"Well, well. This must be a record for the youngest individual ever to enter my Portal."

The voice startled Ed so much that he did open his eyes after all. A white expanse stretched in all directions, and seated in front of him was the strangest-looking person he'd ever seen. It was hard to even call It a person at all, with its featureless face and hazy form that, for some reason, was exactly the same size as him.

"Who are you?"

"Oh! I'm so glad you asked! I am called by many names. I'm the world, I am the universe, I am God, I am Truth, I am all, I am one, and I am also… you."

Ed stared blankly at the being. "That… doesn't make any sense."

"No, I don't suppose it does. Honestly, you're only a fledgling alchemist. I'm surprised you even made it _in_ here. But, then again, you did use a Stone to pay your entry toll."

"A Stone? You mean that gem thing?"

"Yes, exactly that." Ed could have sworn the being raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. "You mean you didn't realize it was a Philosopher's Stone?"

"I don't even know what the hell a Philosopher's Stone is! What's more, I didn't mean to activate that transmutation circle in the first place!"

"Is that so? Well, that's too bad. You're already here; you might as well make the most of it."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Don't you have a request of me? Something that tugs at your heart so strongly that you accidentally and instinctively activated the circle?"

Ed jolted. "You… you mean…?" He clasped his hands together as his eyes lit up with hope. "You can do it? You can bring my mom back to life?"

It was now as though the Truth formed a frown at his question. "No, I cannot. That is something that is truly impossible."

"What? Why's that? You said you're like God, right? Why can't you bring her back?"

"It is not an answerable question. You are a human who is incapable of understanding such things."

"Then, make me understand!" Ed stomped right up to the hazy being. "That's my request! I want all the knowledge of alchemy!"

"All the knowledge of alchemy?" The Truth threw Its head back and laughed uproariously. "Out of all the humans who've made requests of me, never has one been so greedy as you, young alchemist!" It gazed at him full-on. "All right then. But, such a request brings with it a heavy price."

"What kind of price?"

"…Your life."

Ed took several steps back from the being and toppled onto the white nothingness that felt like a floor. "What? That's not fair!"

"Now, now, don't get ahead of yourself, young alchemist. I never said I'd collect right away. The price I have set for you has several layers of meaning, all compiling to meet the requirements of Equivalent Exchange. While it does mean that your life itself will be forfeit to me, it also refers to your removal from this world."

"_This_ world? You make it sound like there're more than one."

The Truth's face now bore a chilling, toothy grin. "That's exactly right, and I have just the place in mind for you, my greedy young alchemist."

"You… you mean you're going to send me away?"

"You catch on quickly."

"But, what about Al? He-"

"Will never know what happened to you. The life you could have had with him is now impossible; that is another aspect of your price." The Truth tilted Its head. "But, there's been enough talk. It's time for you to go now. The knowledge you desire will be given to you on the way there. Enjoy the trip."

Two enormous stone doors that Ed had not yet noticed now swung open, releasing the black hands once again. The dark, ethereal limbs wrapped around him and lifted him into the doorway.

"Goodbye, young alchemist," said the Truth in farewell. "I doubt I'll be seeing you again before I collect your physical life, but… who knows?"

With that, the doors shut, encasing Ed inside. He was too deep in shock to do much more than watch as torrents of pure information poured into his mind all at once. It hurt at first, but then… everything began to make sense. _Everything_. His capacity to store knowledge must surely have expanded just to hold it all. Finally, brain buzzing, the Portal deconstructed him once more, and darkness took hold.

* * *

He felt sore all over, but especially in his head. After a few seconds of silence, he mustered the courage to get up and look around. Ed had wound up in someone's living room. It was dark already outside, and through the windows, Ed could see children running around in costumes. Was _that_ how this world operated? Weird. Moving along on his unsteady legs, Ed walked into the foyer.

And that was when he saw the body. A very dead man lay sprawled across the bottom steps of a staircase that led to a second floor. He had black, messy hair and wire-rimmed glasses that had been knocked out of place so that they dangled off of one ear. But, it was his glazed hazel eyes that scared him the most. Ed held in his frightened scream as he suddenly heard voices coming from upstairs.

"Step aside, girl!"

"No! Not Harry! Not Harry, please!"

Someone else was inside. A woman. She was in danger, probably from the same person who had killed this man. Steeling himself, Ed stepped over the corpse and quietly, but quickly, slunk up the stairs. Within seconds, he had reached the top floor and followed the voices to an open door that led to a bedroom. Sure enough, there was the woman. She had vibrantly red hair and piercing green eyes, the latter of which were, at the moment, fixed upon a figure in a black hooded cloak. _He must be the bad guy_, Ed deduced.

"Out of the way!" the shrouded man ordered.

"No!" the woman shouted again, spreading her arms protectively over the crib behind her. "Don't kill Harry, please! Take me! Kill me instead!"

The intruder raised a bone-white stick, pointed it at the woman's face, and spoke some kind of incantation. "_Avada Kedavra_." Green light bathed the room, and, when it faded, the woman slumped to the carpet, just as dead as the man below. Ed bit down on his tongue to hold in his fear. Whatever that evil hooded guy had just done, it wasn't any kind of alchemy. Was that why the Truth had sent Ed here, because this strange world functioned on completely different principles? Would alchemy even work here? As these trepidations whizzed across his mind, he noticed the "Harry" whom the woman had been protecting. He was a small child – maybe one year old – with messy black hair like the dead man and green eyes like the woman. So, the three were a family… and, in another minute, this vile man in the cloak would have murdered them all. Ed grit his teeth; with or without alchemy, he couldn't just stand here and let another innocent person die. As the hooded man raised his death-stick again, Ed acted.

"Hey! Get the hell away from that kid!" He charged the man, knocking into his side. Even though the man was so much bigger, Ed managed to throw him a little off-balance through surprise and momentum. Unfortunately, the villain recovered quickly.

"Another fool who would stand in my way?" he hissed. "Where did you even come from?"

"None of your business!" Ed retorted. With a defiant expression, he took up the woman's defensive post in front of the child named Harry.

The man snarled, "Get out of the way, you little brat!"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A LITTLE BRAT, YOU BASTARD?" Ed swiped at the man, his hot temper having gotten the best of him. The man seized this opportunity and grabbed Ed by the hair, forcing him out of the way.

"Stop it!" Ed pleaded as the man pointed the stick at Harry. "Leave that poor kid alone!" He tried to pull himself free, but the man's grip was viselike. _What can I do? Come on… think!_ Just then, it was like a window opened in his head, letting in the light of the alchemical knowledge he had gained. He looked at the man's thin arm and instantaneously calibrated all the elements involved.

Once he had mastered comprehension, it was time for the second step: deconstruction. He wouldn't need an array; he could just make a circle inside himself. It was all so easy. Even so, he barely had time to press his palms together, collect the tectonic energy he needed, and grasp the man's wrist before the villain cried triumphantly, "_Avada Kedavra_!" The green light returned, and Ed closed his eyes, unable to make himself watch. He had been too late.

Then, some kind of explosion went off, throwing Ed for several feet. Just as he landed on his back, he felt a searing pain erupt in his forehead, like someone was stabbing him with a hot poker.

"Ow…" he moaned, rolling onto his side. "What the hell… just happened?" Slowly, Ed got back to his feet to find that the whole room had been blown apart. But, where were the man and Harry? Frightened wails soon answered the latter half of that question; Ed quickly located the small child and lifted him out of the wrecked crib.

"Shh… it's okay," he said, putting on a calming smile. "I'm so glad he didn't kill you." He scanned the room as he mused, "But then… what happened to _him_?" Only when he stepped on the black cloak did he realize that the murderer had disintegrated, his body reduced to dust. "Whoa. Did… did _I_ do that?" It didn't seem likely. He hadn't meant to deconstruct his enemy _that_ thoroughly; he had only intended to cause enough harm to distract the man, maybe burst a few blood vessels or break a couple of bones. But _this_… Reasoning that he couldn't have caused a transmutation so extreme without meaning to, Ed considered the possibility that little Harry had somehow defended himself or been protected by some unknown force. It sounded crazy, but – then again – who was Ed to judge how this world operated? A compendium of alchemical knowledge he might now be, but all that information had simply opened his mind to accept a simple fact: that the only thing that was truly impossible was reviving the dead. Other than that, _nothing_ was beyond his reach. Ed could see the death-stick poking out from under the edge of the cloak, so he cautiously picked it up. It looked like just any old piece of wood, but as soon as Ed touched it, a sort of warm energy began to flow from it into him. Ed was dying to know how it worked, but he didn't dare experiment with it, so he ended up stowing it inside his boot.

Not knowing what else to do, Ed slumped cross-legged in a corner and did his best to keep Harry quiet and calm. After about ten minutes, the infant fell asleep, and Ed began to think things might turn out all right after all… but that was before he heard feet on the stairs. Scooting further back into the corner, Ed waited. After what felt like forever, a new sound met his ears: an agonized sob. Whoever had just come in was crying over the body of the woman. Ed leaned forward to see if he could get a look at the newcomer, but his movement woke Harry, who immediately began to whimper in protest. Returning to his previous position, Ed tried to hush the infant's cries, but it was too late. The dresser that had served as a visual barrier was dragged aside by an invisible force, leaving Ed and Harry in full view.

The man looking down at him vaguely resembled a bat, what with his beetle-black eyes and just as dark robes, and he had oily hair that hung in black curtains on either side of his pallid face. Overall, Ed found him more than a little terrifying. Only after an initial impasse did the man demonstrate that he had no intention of hurting Ed or Harry. Finally, Ed felt comfortable enough to tell the man his name. Now that he had gotten over his fright, he got the feeling he could trust this man. He couldn't explain why… it was almost like he already knew him. But, that couldn't be.

"So, what's your name?" Ed asked. "You've got to tell me who _you_ are now. That's only fair. Equivalent Exchange, and all."

"What?"

"Oh. Does this world not know about Equivalent Exchange? That's weird."

The man raised an eyebrow, but he answered Ed's first question. "My name is Severus Snape. Now, what were you talking abou-"

"So, Mr. Snape, do you know what all of this mess is about?"

Now Snape looked even more confused. "You're in the house, in the very _room_, and you don't know?"

Ed shrugged his small shoulders. "How was I supposed to know? The Truth dumped me here without a single hint as to where It was sending me."

At this point, Snape seemed to form the theory that Ed was suffering from either a head injury or plain old insanity. Undaunted, Ed rambled on, "That woman, she called this kid Harry, so I'm guessing that's his name. What's so important about him that an evil psycho would go and slaughter his whole family? And what's up with those death-sticks? You've got one, too, but you haven't killed anyone with it, so that must mean they can be used for things other than killing. Does everyone in this world have one? How are they made? I mean, they just look like plain old sticks. Also-"

"Can you _please_… stop talking?"

Ed clamped a hand over his own mouth, but spoke through it all the same. "Sorry. I guess I did get carried away. It's just that a lot of this is brand-new to me, so I..." Taking a hint from Snape's annoyed expression, Ed decided to just go ahead and shut up. _Geez. Grumpy much?_

"Look," said Snape, keeping his tone measured, "why don't you take the child downstairs? I'm sure someone will be coming for him soon."

"But, what about you?" Ed asked, unable to keep silent.

Snape involuntarily glanced at the woman's still form. "I'll… be along shortly."

Ed looked at the man, and he felt a lump form in his throat. He knew that look in Snape's eyes: the longing, the grief of separation. His mother had worn that same expression whenever she'd thought about Hohenheim. Accepting that it was best for him to do as Snape said, Ed carefully carried Harry down the staircase, which – by some miracle – was still intact. Shielding the infant's face from the sight of his dead father, Ed opened the front door and settled on the front steps with Harry on his lap. This world must exist under the same cycle of the seasons, because the chilly smell of the air and the piles of colorful leaves told him it was still mid-autumn.

He had no way of telling how long he sat there, listening to the sound of the costumed children in the distance as he kept the infant warm in his arms. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier; after all, he needed just as much sleep as the next five-year-old. Just before he dozed off, he heard a rumble, like that of a car engine. Sitting up straight again, his head twisted this way and that in search of the source. Finally, a large, two-wheeled vehicle came out of the sky and landed in front of the house. Ed's jaw just about fell off at the sight of it, but his attention was quickly drawn to the young man astride it. He was what Winry would have called "tall, dark, and handsome." After the rider removed his driving goggles and dismounted the massive motorized bicycle (at least, that was what Ed assumed it was, having never seen one before), he took a few hesitant steps toward the ruins of the house. Eventually, Ed worked up the guts to speak.

"Um, excuse me?"

The man jolted and whipped out his own death-stick (maybe everyone here _did_ have one). When he saw the child in Ed's arms, however, he momentarily relaxed. "Harry," he breathed in relief. "Thank goodness _you're_ all right, at least." He then fixated on Ed. "And who are you?"

"Edward Elric."

"What are you doing here, Edward Elric?"

"I… I just…"

"He was inside the house, Black." Snape had come outside at last, his face nearly void of any color.

"Snivelus," greeted Black rudely. "You say he was _inside_? Explain that."

"I cannot. I merely found him in the nursery upon entry."

Black's eyes widened suspiciously. He glared down at Ed with what the boy felt was unnecessary ferocity. "And Voldemort?"

Snape flinched at this new word, as if the sound of it caused him physical pain. "Gone. There wasn't even much of a body left – just dust."

Black latched onto this sentence and came in for another verbal attack. "And you just let this Elric boy, this _complete stranger_, walk around with my godson? Did you even stop to consider all the possibilities?"

"Do enlighten me."

Black swiftly snatched Harry out of Ed's arms, which of course made the infant stir and voice his displeasure. Talking over Harry's wails, Black snarled, "For example, did it ever enter your head that this boy could be Voldemort in disguise?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Snape actually looked tempted to laugh. "It did, but only for a moment. You see… I know my former master quite well."

"Oh, I'm sure you do, Snivelus."

"In any case, the Dark Lord would not assume the form of an over-talkative whelp who has absolutely no knowledge of magic. It would go against his nature."

_Magic?_ Ed goggled._ Okay, Ed, be open-minded. It's completely possible for this world to have magic… but it still sounds like a bad joke. So, this Voldemort person… was that the guy in the hood who dissolved? It must be. But, then…_

Black rounded on Snape instantly. "That could be exactly what he wants us to think so we won't suspect him!"

"HOLD ON A DAMN SECOND!"

Both men paused to look at the small blonde.

"Are you telling me you think _I'm_ the bastard who tried to kill Harry? That's the craziest thing I've ever heard in my life! I'd never even seen the kid before tonight!"

Black narrowed his gray eyes. "That's exactly what I think, 'Edward!'"

"WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU THINK THAT, DUMBASS?"

"For one thing," pointed out Black, "small children don't use that kind of language!"

"WELL, _THIS_CHILD SURE AS HELL DOES!" Ed snapped back. "AND, WHO ARE YOU CALLING SMALL?"

"What's more, there is no other account for how you got into that nursery!"

"He said 'The Truth dumped' him here," Snape put in.

"And what's that gibberish supposed to mean?"

"The Truth is the being that governs the flow of the universe," Ed clarified at once, "It dictates the law of Equivalent Exchange, the basis of all alchemy."

Black snorted derisively. "All right, even if he isn't Voldemort, there's no denying he's not right in the head. _Alchemy_? That's rich."

"What do you mean by that?" Ed huffed.

"Alchemy doesn't exist," said Black matter-of-factly.

Ed looked just about ready to explode. Accusing him of murder was one thing, but denying the existence of alchemy? _That_ was the last straw. Ed clapped, letting the energy surge into him. Grabbing the nearest streetlamp, he transmuted it into a gargoyle with a glowing mouth from the light bulb inside. He grinned at Black, looking quite pleased at the shock registering on the magician's face. "Like hell alchemy doesn't exist, dumbass."

"Even the Dark Lord does not possess such an ability," Snape attested.

"Or at least according to your knowledge," Black persisted. "Maybe your master doesn't trust you as much as you'd like to think."

"There is no one he trusts more."

"What an impressive accomplishment, to be Voldemort's favorite Death Eater."

"This stupid conversation isn't getting you two anywhere, you know," Ed noticed, earning another derogatory look from Black.

"I'm still not convinced about you, boy."

"What if I take him to Dumbledore? Will _his_ verdict satisfy you, Black?"'

Black frowned, but he finally relented, "It would… suffice… for now."

"Then I will do so." Snape glided along the sidewalk to where Ed had migrated, but he called back over his shoulder to Black. "By the way, I believe Dumbledore is sending the gamekeeper to fetch the Potter boy, so don't expect to hold onto your precious godson for long."

Black sighed in disappointment, but he faced the prospect bravely. "Dumbledore probably does know what's best for him."

"Besides," he added as a hungry, feral grin worked its way onto his face, "I have a filthy rat to sniff out."

* * *

A/N: I know the ending is a bit abrupt, but I had to find a cut-off point _somewhere_…

For reasons later on in the story, I'm having Trisha die in late July (_HP_ enthusiasts can guess away). Her grave only lists years, so as long as I kept it in summer (Ed narrates, "in the summer of that same year" in Brotherhood, so that's the canon line I have to work with), it was still semi-canonical. Since October 31, 1904 is three months later, and his birthday is February 3, 1899, he is five at the beginning of our tale.

Does it ever hit you just how brilliant Ed and Al are? They start reading and understanding these books at five and four… most kids can barely read at all at that age. Also, I'm going on the assumption that Ed and Al haven't learned about the Philosopher's Stone this early on in their studies.

Since alchemists usually encrypt their important research, I thought it would be cool if Hohenheim recorded his intense notes in Xerxian.

_Ugh_! It feels like I have some of the exact same lines from the Truth in EVERY ONE OF MY FMA FANFICS! *headwall* Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!

Amestris doesn't have Halloween, so that's why Ed thinks the trick-or-treaters look weird.

Please excuse the fact that I didn't _exactly_ duplicate the lines from TDH where Voldemort has that flashback about the night he killed the Potters. I don't have the book or the audiobook of TDH with me right now, but I'll have the latter by Thanksgiving. I do have the audiobook of TPS with me (yes, I know the American version is called "The Sorcerer's Stone," but I don't care. The original version is "The Philosopher's Stone," so my abbreviation is TPS instead of TSS.)

Little Ed is such a chatterbox when he doesn't know what's going on. XD

And… is it just me, or do motorcycles not exist in _FMA_? I don't think they do, so that's what I'm running with… like another dangerous sharp object.

Sirius… *swoon* Gary Oldman is cool and all, but the description in the books says he has a "casual elegance" (and I've seen wonderful fan art with gorgeous Sirius depictions), so I imagine him as a bishie. *blush* But, oh, Sirius, you've gone and gotten on Ed's bad side already *facepalm* Of course, the filthy rat he mentions is Pettigrew.

**PLEASE REVIEW** ^_^ I want to know what you guys think, and I take constructive criticism well, so don't be afraid to speak up. That said… I would really appreciate no flaming. Flaming isn't constructive…


	3. Shattered and Shunted

_**The Boy with the Lightning Scar**_

_**by AngelG93**_

* * *

A/N: Thank you all so much for the feedback and constructive criticism. It's so helpful for someone else to point out those little details that slip my mind.

Someone wondered why Ed was already so sensitive about his size. For one thing, it's in the manga (and Brotherhood), but I think it's because Al is the same height or taller than Ed by then, so he's already ticked about it.

* * *

**Shattered and Shunted**

Ed had stayed tough in front of that Voldemort guy, and for Snape and Black, too. Even around little Harry, he hadn't released the tempest of fear and sorrow. But, now that all that fuss had diminished to a dull roar, Ed's own grief finally caught up to him. He barely held it together long enough for Snape to use some weird method of magical travel to bring the two of them to a village full of plain, yet strange buildings. The sight of so much unfamiliarity brought the first sniffle, and then the first tear. Within seconds, the small boy wilted completely, wrapped against his knees as pitiful sobs spilled out of him.

"What is it?" said Snape tersely.

"I… I just…" Ed whimpered, "It's just that… I really am… stuck here… aren't I? I'm… I'm never… never _ever_… gonna see… my little brother again. He must be… so scared!" Trembling, he buried his face in his jeans and wept.

Snape seemed uncertain of what to do at first; the man obviously wasn't skilled in working with small children. At length, he spoke up. "Look… I need to take you up to the castle. Dumbledore-"

"NO! I don't…" hiccupped Ed, "don't wanna go… to some castle! I wanna… go home!"

Several more uncomfortable minutes passed before Snape made another, gentler attempt. "If you stay out here, you're just going to make yourself sick. Why don't I take you inside?"

But it was no good. Ed was no longer capable of coherent communication as he bawled into his legs. Snape raised his eyes to the sky, silently demanding why the universe hated him so much. Ed became so distraught that he barely registered the hands slip around his rib cage and lift him. When his shaking fingers encountered the warmth of Snape's robes, however, he clung on for dear life as his sorrow continued to overflow.

_Al… I'm sorry. You were so afraid of being left alone… and I went and made that fear a reality. And I said such mean things to you before I left. I'm so sorry…_

His surroundings changed, but he didn't have the strength or motivation to look. He kept his eyelids shut tight, hanging onto the image of his brother's smiling face, terrified that it would slip away forever the moment he opened his eyes. As Snape carried him, he could hear the echo of stone floors and many voices in between his heaving sobs. Even though he was far from finished with his cry, his volume decreased just as Snape uttered a strange phrase, some kind of password. Then, they were traveling upward in a spiral. At long last, Snape rapped on a wooden door, and a voice on the other side responded.

"Enter."

"Headmaster," Snape greeted upon entry.

"Severus," the man who must be Dumbledore said sadly, "I cannot even begin to convey the depths of my regret about-"

"Indeed, Headmaster," cut in Snape, obviously uncomfortable with talking on the subject. If Ed had been paying more attention, he would have reasoned that the topic Snape had just slapped a moratorium onto was the death of Harry's mother. "The Potter boy will be tended to, I'm sure. I left him with Black."

"Then Hagrid can collect him from Sirius… if he can convince him to part with the boy."

"I warned him of such a possibility. He seemed… able to bear it."

"One can only hope. But, now I can't help but ask… who is _this_ child?" Ed assumed the Headmaster made some indication to him as Snape shifted Ed's position so that Dumbledore could see his bleary, tear-streaked face.

"This is Edward Elric. I found him in the Potter house."

"In the house? How strange."

"Quite." Snape set Ed down in a cushy armchair, where the boy immediately hugged his knees to his chest and hung his head. Ed heard Dumbledore rise from a chair and approach, but he didn't want to look up, his eyes still clamped shut.

"Why is the poor boy crying? What happened?"

Snape relayed all the details of his encounter with Ed, right up to their arrival at the Headmaster's office.

"Oh, Sirius…" Dumbledore sighed. "He does have a habit of assuming the worst about some people."

"You hardly need to tell _me_ that, Headmaster."

"Indeed." The scrape of chair legs told Ed that Dumbledore pulled up a seat across from him. "Edward? Would you let me look at you, please?"

The man's voice was so kind that Ed couldn't help but give in. He sniffled loudly and wiped his nose on his sleeve before finally opening his eyes and lifting his head. Dumbledore was an elderly man, but he radiated a power that could easily have knocked Ed for a loop. Behind half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes twinkled welcomingly, and his silvery beard ruffled as he smiled warmly at the small blonde.

"Hello. My name is Albus Dumbledore. I hear you've been through quite an ordeal tonight."

Ed nodded. "I didn't mean it," he choked. "I just… I just wanted to see my mom again, but… it all went wrong."

"Is that so? Do you mean that your mother has… passed on?"

"She died just a few months ago."

"And your father?"

"That bastard left us, and that's… that's why she died."

Although Dumbledore seemed shocked by Ed's vulgar language, he pressed on. "Severus said you mentioned a little brother. Where is he?"

"Home… in Risembool. But, you people… wouldn't know anything about that… cuz it's in a whole different world." He had to fight the urge to break down again as he said it.

"I see," the Headmaster encouraged. "And you came to _our_ world…"

"I told Mr. Snape before: the Truth dumped me in this freaky 'magic' place."

"The Truth being this entity that governs the nature of alchemy?"

"Uh-huh," he sniffled, "but Mr. Black didn't believe me. He said alchemy didn't exist, the dumbass. Plus, he accused me of being that Voldemort guy! How is that fair?"

"No, it isn't fair. I wonder, could you demonstrate some alchemy for me?"

"Right now?"

"I see no reason why not."

"Oh… okay…" He gestured to a paperweight on the desk behind Dumbledore. "Could I transmute that?"

Dumbledore obliged and handed him the object. It was a simple, smooth river-rock, easy for an exhibition. Ed opened that window in his mind again, but – without the rush of adrenaline or anger fueling him – delving into that mass of alchemical knowledge hurt, like an enormous weight had been compressed and shoved into his brain. Pushing past the discomfort, Ed balanced the rock on his knees, clapped, and touched it with a single finger. Energy crackled from the point of contact, and a moment later, the rock had reshaped itself into the form of a human skull, perfect to the last detail.

"Incredible," Dumbledore mused, picking up the result of the transmutation and even fiddling with the miniature jaw for good measure. "Actually, Edward, I have met one other individual who possesses this talent, albeit to a lesser extent."

"You… you have?" Snape interjected.

"Yes. Nicholas Flamel. He cannot perform alchemy as easily as young Edward here, but he can use it all the same. What's more, he told me of some experiments he'd conducted that led him to believe in the existence of another world wholly reliant on the science."

"Science? So, it's a Muggle technique?"

"Alchemy is a difficult art to classify. I would personally place it somewhere _between_ science and magic, but, to differentiate it from our own form of magic, calling it a science is easier."

"In any case," Dumbledore concluded, "I believe Edward is being truthful."

"Well, tell Black that. Honestly, accusing a little boy of being the Dark Lord…"

"I'm not little…" mumbled Ed, earning a sympathetic smile from Dumbledore.

"There is another matter about our young friend here that interests me," the Headmaster moved on, "Edward, might I have a closer look at that scar?"

"Huh?" Ed raised a blonde eyebrow. "What scar?" During his cry, he obviously hadn't been listening to Snape's retelling of their meeting well enough.

"The scar on your forehead."

"I don't have a scar."

"I'm looking at it," Dumbledore pointed out.

Ed immediately felt his face. Sure enough, he could feel the outline of deadened skin where that hot-poker feeling had zapped him. It formed a sort of zigzag pattern, like a lightning bolt. "Oh… I thought _something_ hit me there."

"May I see it?"

Ed pulled his bangs back so that the mark was in full view. When Dumbledore brought out his own death-stick, Ed jolted, but the elderly man assured him that it was quite safe. A faint glow emanated from the tip of the stick, and Ed got the notion that he was being scanned in some way. The probing pushed deeper and deeper… and that was when something felt wrong. It was like a snake inside of him snapped out at the stick, and Ed sharply pulled back from Dumbledore. His forehead stung again, more acutely this time.

"Ow," he whined. "That hurt."

"Apologies," said the Headmaster, "that was not my intention. I must say… this _is_ interesting."

"Sir?" asked Snape. "What's interesting?"

"It's quite curious as well," added Dumbledore, as if Snape should somehow understand what he was talking about. Before Snape could inquire further, however, the door of the office opened again, and a woman in a green robe with a pointed hat and square glasses entered.

"Albus! Is it true? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone?"

"It would seem so."

The woman looked as if she might pass out from relief. She sank into another of the armchairs and placed a hand over her heart.

"Actually, Minerva, your timing couldn't be better." Dumbledore smiled down at the blonde boy and asked, "Edward, are you hungry, by chance?"

The small stomach chose that moment to growl ferociously, and Ed sheepishly admitted, "Yeah, a little."

"Well, then… Professor McGonagall, if you would take Edward here down to the kitchens for some food?"

"Yes, Headmaster, of course," said McGonagall at once, steadying herself and placing a hand on Ed's shoulder. "Come along, child."

Ed followed her leading, still sniffling, until he remembered something on a whim. Turning back to Dumbledore, he slipped one hand into the inside of his boot as he mentioned, "Sir? I picked this up at the house, but I'm not really sure what to do with it. Should I give it to you?" With that, he brought out Voldemort's death-stick for the three adults to see. What he didn't expect was for two of them to take several steps away from him. Dumbledore, however, approached Ed and held out his hand.

"Yes, Edward, you may entrust it to me for now."

Ed nodded and handed the stick to Dumbledore; he could almost feel Snape and McGonagall holding their breath, as if they expected the weapon to self-destruct or something. The small boy frowned as he thought, _Are these people paranoid, or what? Weirdos._

* * *

"Headmaster?" inquired Snape as soon as the door had closed behind Professor McGonagall and the young child. "What… what does this mean?"

"What does what mean, Severus?"

"The boy, he… he had the Dark Lord's wand."

"And?"

"And, that doesn't seem suspicious to you?"

"Severus," half-teased Dumbledore with a forward tilt of his head, "now, weren't _you_ the one who was saying how ridiculous Sirius's accusations were just a few minutes ago?"

Severus blanched, but he defended himself, "_That_ was a hasty conclusion without proper evidence."

"So, how is this different?"

"The wand, Headmaster! Why would that boy feel the need to pick up the Dark Lord's wand unless… unless…"

"Now, _that_ is the start of asking the right question, Severus." Dumbledore fingered the wand with caution. "There is certainly more going on here than is apparent, but… all the same, I don't think there is any _immediate_ cause for alarm."

"Immediate? Meaning, there could be cause for alarm in the future?"

"That remains to be seen." The Headmaster set the wand on his desk and resumed his seat. "Severus, we need to keep Edward here, in the castle, where we can watch him. That is the safest option."

"I understand, but-"

"Good, because I am placing him in your care."

_That_ took an unusually long time to sink in. "…What?"

"I know you heard me, Severus. The boy trusts you already – that much is obvious. I think he will listen to you."

"But, Headmaster-"

"_Severus_, you swore you would do _anything_ to help keep the Potters safe. Harry survived tonight, but Voldemort _will_ return one day, and Harry's life will be put in danger once again."

"I can believe _that_, Dumbledore, but what does this alchemist boy have to do with-"

"He may, in fact, have a considerable role to play when that time comes. In the meantime, we need to keep him safe; do you understand me, Severus?"

The Potions Master sighed in reluctance. "Yes, Headmaster." As he took his leave, Dumbledore called after him.

"I think this will do _both_ of you some good. He's all alone in the world; doesn't that remind you of someone?"

Snape gave no answer to Dumbledore as he swept from the room. Knowing that the Headmaster's intent was that he should begin this new task immediately, he journeyed down to the kitchens, where he found Edward stuffing his face in a most boorish manner. McGonagall also looked disapprovingly at his lack of table manners, but the house elves seemed pleased at having such an opportunity to clean up the mess he left in the wake of his appetite.

"And you claimed you were only a little hungry," Snape noted, raising an eyebrow.

Ed looked up at him with a mouth full of smashed potatoes. He swallowed before retorting, "I get hungrier when I'm in a bad mood, okay?"

The boy proceeded to consume two chicken potpies, a bowl of sautéed vegetables, and four raspberry tarts. In fact, the only edible item he did not practically inhale was the glass of milk placed well within his reach. He glared at the beverage as if it had done him a personal wrong, eventually asking one the of the house elves if he could have water instead (a wish they quickly fulfilled).

"How does he not make himself sick?" McGonagall wondered aloud to Snape.

"A growth spurt? He certainly looks overdue for one."

The two professors heard a spluttering noise come from the table as Ed sprayed a swig of water over the heads of the surrounding servants. He glared at Severus with blazing eyes, and the Potions Master was quite relieved that the boy had left Voldemort's wand with Dumbledore. If looks could kill, Edward might as well have just invoked the Killing Curse. Severus made a mental note to avoid the subject of the boy's size in future.

"Well, um…" stammered Snape as he attempted to redirect the conversation by turning back to McGonagall. "The Headmaster has requested that I take charge of him from here. Don't bother asking _me_ why," he added when McGonagall looked confused by this arrangement, "I couldn't get a straight answer from him on the matter."

"I see. Well, it's far past any reasonable bedtime for a child his age. At least, with all that food in his belly, falling asleep shouldn't prove too difficult for him."

"One can only hope."

* * *

It was true that Ed's appetite grew when he was upset, but it hadn't done any good. No amount of food would make him feel any better about being separated from his home forever. He couldn't stop thinking about what Al must be doing at this very moment: searching for him all over the house, calling the Rockbells' to see if he was there, waiting up all night for him to come home. The thought of it made his vision blurry with nascent tears.

He was so engrossed in this introspection that he blindly followed Snape's direction to a dark and cold part of the castle, like a dungeon. For a moment, he wondered if he was going to be locked up, if Snape had decided that Black might have been right after all in thinking Ed was dangerous. Thankfully, this proved to be an illusion; Snape led him to what looked like normal living quarters. After handing Ed a blanket, he directed the boy to a large couch propped against the wall.

"I don't have anything else at the moment, but it's surprisingly comfortable."

"Huh?"

Snape seemed to realize that Ed hadn't been listening to a word. "You need sleep, so off you go."

Ed slowly moved toward the couch and pulled himself up onto it, nestling down under the blanket with his head on one of the cushy pillows. It _was_ comfortable, but Ed inwardly berated himself for finding something positive in this strange world that seemed so suspicious of him for no good reason.

"Well," said Snape, clearing his throat awkwardly, "good night."

Even before Snape doused the lights and left the room, Ed began to cry again, much more quietly this time. He lay awake in the darkness for what felt like forever, utterly miserable, until his sobs finally carried him off to sleep.

* * *

A/N: I apologize if this chapter seems a bit slow. I've got to have somewhere to build, though, don't I?

Poor 'widdle Ed. He's not nearly as tough as the Fullmetal Alchemist we're used to, being only five and all.

Ed's taste… XD I think being in the Wizarding World will only encourage his love of Gothic architecture and all that.

Random announcement: I was struck by inspirational lightning (not HP lightning) for a _FMA_ crossover with _Doctor Who_, the first part of which shall be called _The Secret Companion_. Look forward to it ^_^

**PLEASE REVIEW** ^_^


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